Every Ending Is A New Beginning
by SKJC
Summary: Cliche postending fic I wrote so long ago that I barely remember this series, aside from having really liked it. FakirAhiru.


Notes: Okay, so I wrote a cliche post-ending Tutufic - AGES AGO. Oh my god, this is so old, I barely remember watching this series. oo I found it on the hard drive of my old computer and figured I may as well publish it. SPOILERS! Don't read without seeing it ALL. Period dot end of sentence. Ahiru/Fakir but I promise he doesn't write her back to being a girl. I also promise it's not beastiality. ; Fakir is OOC, slightly? I dunno. Ahiru is too but she's supposed to be.

Disclaimer: Tutu ! mine. me ! making money. copyright holders ! suing me. Please?

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Once upon a time, not so very long ago, there was a town. The story had many characters. Most notable was a magical princess, who was really just a girl, who was really just a simple duck. There were others, of course. A dark princess, the daughter of a monster raven. The knight, who was really just a man. The prince, whose heart had been shattered. And of course, Drosselmeyer, who was controlling it all from the afterlife.

The story progressed, as stories tend to do, and the prince's heart was returned to him. The knight, realizing his true role as a writer, wrote the ending of the story. The prince, stained by the raven's blood, went off into the sunset with the dark princess, and they lived happily ever after. Drosselmeyer went on, further into his world of afterlife, perhaps to seek another story. The magical princess, unable to keep her power with the conclusion of the story, turned back into a simple duck forever more. The faithful knight, having given up protecting his prince, took his true role of a writer. He swore then, because he had ended the story and taken her powers, that he would remain with the duck forever.

But then... But then, where will the story go from here?

Princess Tutu :::: Chapter of Swan

Fakir sat, parchment laid out, pen moving across it. He still had yet to come to terms with the fact that simply by moving a pen across paper, had had the power to affect reality, but yet he could do nothing more for Ahiru. He sighed.

It wasn't right, he thought. She sacrificed so much for the sake of Mytho, for the sake of the story, and she got the short end of the stick. Rue got her prince, Mytho himself got his heart back, all because of her - and she was fated to remain as a duck for the rest of her life.

He looked up as the door opened. Aotoa - why does he keep coming around here, a voice in the back of Fakir's head asked absently.

"Fakir!" Aotoa greeted him. "Still pining away over Ahiru, are you? You need to work on refining your powers - "

"Shut up," Fakir cut him off, standing to face him. "What good are my powers if I can't help her?"

"Why is she so important?" Aotoa asked insistantly. "She served her useful purpose in the story."

"The story, the story - That's all that matters to you," Fakia muttered.

"What was that?"

"I said, 'The story is all that matters to you,'" Fakia repeated, annoyed.

"Why do you care about her so much?" The other boy asked, as though caring for someone after their usefulness had run out was a waste of anyone's time.

"Because, you fool," Fakir exploded, "She is GOOD! She deserves to be happy! She went through with the ending of the story, even though she knew it would hurt her, because it would be a happy ending for the others. They got everything and she got nothing! If I have all this power, dammit, I should be able to do something for her!"

Aotoa was silent for a moment.

Then, "I see." Aotoa nodded, as if to himself. "Fakia, do remember where true power originates. A pen on paper is all well and good, but even with the most powerful writer, can only do so much." He said nothing else, quietly exiting the house.

"Cryptic as usual," Fakia sighed, sitting back down.

He heard a slight tapping sound on the window, and looked over. Ahiru was perched on the outside, tapping the glass with her beak. He went over and opened it, and she fluttered in, landing awkwardly on the desk. She looked down at the paper, and up at him quizzically. Seating himself yet again, he reached over and patted her head affectionately.

"I'm sorry, Ahiru. As much as I want to, I can't help you." He crossed the room to his bed and collapsed upon it, and she quickly flapped over and nestled herself next to him. He looked at her, slightly surprised, and sighed.

Weeks pass.

The same scene is before us - Fakir, frustrated, trying unsuccessfully to pen a story to restore Ahiru to a human form. Aotoa entered once again, berating him for trying. But this time, different words are exchanged.

"Will you just ADMIT IT, Fakir?" Aotoa exclaimed, exasperated.

"What?"

"I can't say it for you. You have to do it yourself."

"WHAT?! What do I have to do?" Fakia demanded.

"You idiot," Aotoa sneered. "You're a writer. You're supposed to live by your emotions. Can it be you're afraid?"

This time it was Fakir who was silent a moment.

"You mean.." He started.

"Yes." Aotoa cut him off.

"But, what if.." Fakir tried to start again.

"It doesn't matter." Again, he was cut off.

"How can it not matter?" He wondered out loud.

"What matter is YOUR emotions working to fulfill YOUR heart's desire. It doesn't matter."

Another moment of silence.

"It will work?" Fakir's voice carried a tone of determined resignation at this point.

"Not if you insist on treating it like a burden," Aotoa said quietly, departing and leaving Fakir in silence.

He stood there, alone, for a long time, staring at the wall.

The next day.

He arose early the next morning, and set about preparing a small picnic. He took it out by the lakeside around noon, and he and Ahiru ate together. They spent the afternoon talking (well, he to her), and dancing (obviously, him far better than her), and just sitting quietly.

As the sun was setting, she began to look downcast and sad.

"What's wrong?" He inquired.

She looked sadly at him, back towards the town, and then out towards the sunset.

"You're sad because you think I have to go home soon, aren't you?"

She looked down towards the ground for a moment, blushing slightly, and nodded.

"You know you can come home with me." It wasn't an offer, really, but more of an offhand suggestion, the way he said it.

Her eyes widened slightly, and he continued speaking.

"Ahiru, Aotoa pointed some things out to me. First of all, that I'm afraid." At this she looked surprised, and he continued, "Yes, I'm afraid. Of you, of helping you, but also of not being able to help you. And as I've been thinking, I've realized that these things aren't just because you're a good person.." he trailed off, taking a deep breath, "but because.. well, I do believe I've fallen in love with you." At this admission, he let out the breath he'd been holding and picking her up to hold her in his arms, close to his body.

As he clutched at her, warmth coursing through both their bodies, something curious began to happen. Once all was done with, he was holding a girl in his arms, not a duck any longer.

A very naked girl.

"SORRY!" He yelled, dropping her to the blanket (It's a good thing we're sitting down, he thought) and scrambing up to turn around as she wrapped herself in said blanket.

Still silent, she moved over to him and placed her arms around his waist, resting her head against his back.

"You.. Love me, Fakir?" She murmured, slightly, sounding (and looking) a few years older than she had before - presumably ducks age faster than humans?

He turned to face her, not making a move to dislodge her arms from his waist.

"I promised to stay with you forever. At that time, I may not have realized it, but only love can move someone to promise such a thing." He placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"Now, let's go home and get you some clothes. I'm sorry to say that a picnic blanket does not become you."

Needless to say, he got an earful.

Elsewhere...

Drosselmeyer cackled to himself.

"Why should I find another story," he mused. "Maybe I'll just keep playing with these characters a bit longer."

finis 


End file.
